


Super Dead

by MissAn0nymus



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-06 04:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAn0nymus/pseuds/MissAn0nymus
Summary: A certain young sister and crossbow wielding bad ass meet.





	1. Chapter 1

_ “It's the eye of the tiger- It's the thrill of the fight.” _ We scream, rolling down the street. “Tampon run!” I remind Dean as he drives past the drug store. He rolls his eyes and stops, parking his precious ‘67 Impala.

 

“Thanks, bro.” I call, jogging in. I slip my bag off my shoulders and kneel next to the feminine hygiene rack.

 

“I need you to run.” Satan says from behind me. I ignore him, focussing on the task at hand. “You're going to get hurt, run!” I stand and turn around, expecting to get to yell at my hallucination, only to have an arrow go through my abdomen.

 

I look up and see a badass with a crossbow looking just as surprised as I feel. “Um, ow?” I complain, my hands instinctively going to my wound. “Grab my bag.” I command, walking back to my family.

 

When I get in, Dean says, “That was fast. C'mon, shut the door.” 

 

Sam takes a glance at me and gasps, “Olivia!” At that, Dean looks at me and follows Sam out of the car and over to my side.

 

“What happened?”

 

“ _ This  _ asshole shot me.” I say, jerking a thumb at the redneck exiting the store. They instantly pull their guns on him. “It was an accident.” I defend.

 

“Sorry. I got a group with a doctor, he can fix you.” He offers.

 

“We ARE out of floss.” I comment.

 

“Lead the way.” Dean replies, looking kinda pissed, getting into the black beauty.


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Come on, sing with me.” Luci coos into my ear.

 

“Not right now.” I retort, not in the mood to deal with his satanic majesty.

 

“But we need to keep you awake.” He moves a lock of hair away from my face.

 

I scoff. “This isn't my first rodeo. Now, when we get there, I can't talk to you, okay?” I inform my friend as we pull up to a prison.

 

“FIIIIIIIIINE.” He sighs and sticks his forked tongue out at me, which I do right back.

 

“The devil bothering you again?” Dean asks.

 

I shrug, unbuckling as we stop, and grabbing our med bag before opening the door. I hop out and walk along the gravel path to the inner entrance of a prison.

 

The 2 minute walk to ‘Hershal’, as Daryl named the faceless doctor during that time, was relatively uneventful. Following his gesture, I plop down on the bench to an indoor picnic table. He comes out of one of the cells moments later with an old man, #Santa, am I right?

 

Before he can say anything I unzip the med bag and dump it on the table, taking out the whiskey first, as to not break it. “Use what you need.” I say, unscrewing the cap to the… pain reliever.

 

“Is it… is it an open or closed wound?” He asks, gesturing to the piece of wood jutting from my gut.

 

“Closed.”

 

He looks at the arrow for a good minute before saying, “It’s not far back enough to push it out, we’ll have to pull.”

 

I scoff, take a deep drink of liquor, and slam my fist into the butt of the arrow, sending it out. “You were saying?” I chuckle.

 

After he pushes it the rest of the way through and closes the wound, I see an all too familiar face as Hershal’s cleaning me up.

 

I sit there, dumbstruck, before leaping off of the bench and into Bobby’s arms.


	3. Chapter 3

“YOU SONOFABITCH, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” I yell, holding my dad tight.

 

“Language, Livvy, ya idjit.” He gently ruffles my hair, managing to remove his hand before the terrible two engulf us.

 

“Bobby, it’s so good to have you back.” A small crack in Dean’s voice can be heard if you know him well enough.

 

“You have no idea how much we missed you.” Tears flow freely down Sam’s cheeks.

 

“Who are they?” A voice from behind Bobby asks.

 

We let go of the only father figure we’d ever had and look at a man with a sheriff’s hat. “I’m Olivia, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean.” I say, gesturing to each of us.

 

He raises an eyebrow at Bobby. “These are my youngins. Raised ‘em to be fine people.”

 

“I’m Rick, Daryl said he shot you, that true?” He asks me.

 

“Nuthin I can’t handle.” I say, pushing my shoulders back.

 

“She’s had worse.” Dean says from my side.

 

I look at Bobby, realising something. “Have you…”

 

He shakes his head. “Why would I?”

 

My eyes widen a little. “Why else would we be in the middle of nowheresville? A hunt!”

 

“How are you getting internet?” He looks confused for a second before remembering. “Sam.” I nod, my smile returning.

 

“What are you talking about?” Rick jumps back in.

 

“I don’t know, Bobby, what am I talking about?” I cross my arms.

 

He glances at me, probably insinuating a glare. “Sam’s always had this hilarious connection to Wiffy.”

 

“WiFi.” I correct.

 

“No, about the hunting stuff.”

 

“We have a… family business.” Sam summarises.

 

“Saving people hunting things.” Dean mutters.

 

“We hunt monsters.” I state bluntly. “Ghosts, vampires, demons, windigos, you name it, we’ve either killed it or scared it so bad it checks under their beds for US before going to sleep.”

 

“Olivia!” My family scolds.

 

“What?! They wanted to know!” I throw my hands up.

 

Suddenly, Rick pulls out a gun and points it at Dean, which Sam, Bobby and I immediately block. “Dean WINCHESTER.”

“Crap.” He says with a smirk.

 

“Did you hear nothing I said?”

 

A head pops out of a cell past the stairs. “What’s goin’ on?” Is that…

 

“Bella?”

 

“Crap.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

“OKAY, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Rick yells.

 

Luci, from the bench where I sat, mutters, “What an asshole.”

 

I stifle a laugh. “Look,” Bella says, “Whatever they say is true, probably is.”

 

“When’d she get the accent?” He asks.

 

“What the hell would you know about demons and shit?”

 

A nervous laugh escapes her throat. “Well…”

 

“And why’d they call you Bella?”

 

“Um…”

 

“I think I can explain.” The smooth scottish voice of my friend asks.

 

I don’t bother breaking eye contact with their leader when saying, “Hey, Crowley, come to join the party?”

 

“Mouse, pleasure as always.”

 

Rick’s surprised face is worth any and all pain it causes me. “How did you get in here?”

 

“Easily, now, let’s play a game. It’s called, ‘give me my team back before I personally send you to the inner circle of hell’, sound fun?”

 

“What team?”

 

“Team free will. An ex junky, a dropout with six dollars to his name, an old drunk, a baby in a trenchcoat, and the token female.”

 

“And the suave Scott.” Sam adds.

 

I’m literally shaking with the effort of not bursting out laughing.

 

“Crowley, this is Rick, the leader of our group.” Bobby introduces.

 

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

 

“And Rick, this is Crowley, the King of Hell.”

  
The look on Rick’s face, and the fact that I’ve had a  _ little _ too much whiskey, makes the laughter bubble out of me. As I hold my gut and force breath back into my lungs, everyone that I don’t know personally is looking at me like I’m a psycho.


End file.
